


We Could Be Heroes

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, BDSM, Canon, Drama, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, No Slash, Romance, Season/Series 04, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-02-26
Updated: 2004-02-26
Packaged: 2018-12-27 10:14:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12079020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Justin convinces Brian to do a little role-playing; slight spoilers for season four.





	We Could Be Heroes

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

It had been a long day for Brian Kinney; well, a long everything, really. When the successful, attractive advertising executive had made the decision to strike out on his own with his talents instead of using them to further Vanguard's reputation, he'd expected a large workload. Still, that didn't stop him from groaning at the tension in his muscles after spending hours hunched over his computer, or the migraines that he incurred after lengthy telephone conversations, meetings with clients that he was trying to sway over to Kinnetic, and, perhaps even more prominently, the ache in his groin that remained for much longer than it used to before he took on the senior partner role.

Not that this was his junior partner's (in a matter of speaking) fault; Justin had been beyond understanding during Brian's trial-and-error financial period after Stockwell had for sure lost the election. The blond just always seemed to sense what Brian needed: he massaged his aching body with nary a request, fixed him dinner when the older man was too caught up in work to do it himself, and occupied himself with his own art projects and schoolwork now that his month-long suspension from PIFA was over (and how; the snotballs had practically begged for him to come back). And of course, the sex was just as great as always, if not interspersed more than either man was used to in the entire time they'd been together (break-up not included).

"I'm lucky to have him," Brian mused to himself that evening; he couldn't quite bring himself to say it in so many words, but he was grateful to Justin -- for not abandoning him, for not being a whiny brat when the excitement of being Brian Kinney's non-conventional boyfriend took a bit of a dip, and for just being . . . well, Justin. Appearance aside, Brian couldn't help but be attracted to the boy's sense of humour and razor-sharp wit. He was intelligent enough to be on-par with people more than a decade his senior, yet still fun-loving enough to make Brian feel youthful. "God, I sound like a dyke," the brunet thought, crinkling his nose at the empty spreadsheet in front of him. Deciding he'd stared at the blank screen long enough, Brian set to work divesting himself of his clothing; a little nap would do him good, he decided. 

When Justin pushed open the loft door a couple of hours later, he noted the "Dirty Dancing" screensaver glowing from Brian's computer and smiled, knowing that his lover was home. Taking the stairs two at a time up to the bedroom, Justin grinned at Brian's languid form stretched out nude atop blue bedding, eyelids half-closed as the man calmly smoked a cigarette. Brian returned the smile with an easy gaze, setting the butt in the ashtray on the nightstand. "Hey," his slight lover professed, stepping a bit closer. 

"Hey -- oof," Brian gasped as a firm-yet-inviting weight straddled his waist. "Shoes, shoes," he nagged, worried that Justin's sneakers would track dirt on his favourite (or at least, most-used) piece of furniture. The boy rolled his eyes and tugged them off, tossing them carelessly on the ground, then focused his attention back on Brian. Leaning down for a long kiss, Justin's hands swept up Brian's toned arms and chest, eventually settling on his shoulders as he started to knead the firm skin. 

"You're so tight," Justin breathed as Brian's eyes practically rolled back in his head; the older man was clearly enjoying the ministrations. Nonetheless, he chuckled at the double innuendo.

"Don't tell anyone, okay?" he grinned, pleased to feel some of the tension relieved already. 

"Oh, I won't," Justin smiled sweetly, flashing one of Brian's own patented eyebrows at his lover. "Providing you do something for me, that is." 

"And what would that be?" Brian asked, vaguely amused at Justin's gall. He had a feeling it wasn't anything horrifically serious, but still, his curiosity was piqued. The boy rarely made requests in this manner, and he'd never resorted to blackmail where Brian was directly concerned. 

Justin traced his finger down Brian's chest, stopping between his pectorals as if to emphasize the point he was about to make. "I need you to help *inspire* me," he whispered sensually, teeth bared in a pretty if not slightly feral smile. 

"Next you're going to tell me that I'm your muse," Brian responded dryly, earning himself a swift tug on his right nipple. "A-haaa. Twat," he laughed, all the more turned on by Justin's smug expression. 

The boy continued his obviously prepared speech. "As you know, the third issue of Rage has been kind of put on hiatus with my other . . . obligations," he began. "And now that Michael and I are finally able to get back to work on it, we're having a bit of a dry spell," he lamented. 

"And this concerns me because --?" Brian queried playfully. He knew full well how much not only his visage, but also his essence had played into Rage's characterization and the plot of the comic book. He also had teased Justin and Michael about using local social and political events as fodder for its pages in the past. 

"Well, you don't want us to go too much longer without a brilliant flash of inspiration," Justin purred, grinding his crotch against Brian's; it achieved the desired reaction as the man undulated beneath him. "And what better way to have one than going straight to the source of the idea . . . pun totally not intended?" He panted a bit, feeling both his and Brian's cocks stirring as his hips moved in slow circles.

"What sort of inspiration do you have in mind?" Brian groaned, eyes narrowed into lustful slits. He was interested to hear what Justin had in mind, but now that he was fully awake and similarly aroused, it was taking all of his superhuman strength not to grab the boy, rip his clothing off, and pound into him relentlessly, all in the name of release.

Luckily, Justin was not planning on disappointing his lover. "You've still got the costume from the Rage party, don't you?" he asked, smiling lasciviously. Brian could not help but return it; of course he had the costume. Against his better judgment, he had demanded it back from the guy he'd hired (and fucked) to wear it on a night that had been rather sordid despite the comic's immediate success. It had been an evening of betrayal, loss, and everything coming to a head (and not in the life-sustaining, feel-good kind of way), and looking back on it, Brian was amazed at how far *everyone* had come since. 

Despite the emotional baggage attached to memories of That Evening, he simply answered "I do; what do you plan to do with it?" 

"I want you to wear it," Justin husked. "I want JT to be fucked by Rage." 

"Hmm, kinky," Brian said approvingly, catching on. "I never knew you to be into role-playing." He absentmindedly caressed the nimble fingers that were resting on his flat torso.

"Well, it's not like I need to pretend I'm someone else with you," Justin said sincerely, favouring Brian with a soulful gaze. "But . . . there's nothing wrong with being heroes, just for one night." He ground against his lover with a bit more persistence this time, hoping to drive his point home.

"You've watched 'Moulin Rouge' one too many fucking times," Brian stated in what he hoped was a disapproving tone. "But I suppose it wouldn't hurt . . . for inspiration and all," he finished, reveling in the bright sunshine smile that overtook Justin's face and just about lit up the fucking bedroom. It nearly took his breath away; luckily, Brian Kinney was a master at saving face, so his external reaction of pulling himself into a sitting position and kissing Justin hard on the mouth left little to sentimental value. "I'll go get ready," he murmured in-between kisses. 

Justin watched his dark-haired lover meander to the closet, and took in Brian's tall frame bending over to retrieve something from the far corner. Satisfied with the pile of dark blue cloth that he came up with, the older man padded off to the bathroom, shutting the door with a soft 'click'. The blond smiled and made his way to the dresser drawer for his own costume.

-*-

Amidst the crowded nightlife of Gayopolis, nineteen-year-old JT, affectionately known as the Boy Wonder by his superhero lover, meandered along. Said superhero lover was (begrudgingly) too busy combing the streets for evil-doers to accompany his teenage idolator to Babylon, but urged JT to have fun without him. "Just not too much fun," he'd chided, chucking the blond underneath the chin.

Stifling a yawn, JT began to wish he'd stayed home in Rage's lair, high above the city, and watched movies until his lover returned from an assuredly busy night of crime-fighting. Sure, there wre plenty of hot men mulling about, and JT knew he could pretty much have anyone he wanted, but ... something about the lack of a challenge only made JT want Rage more. 

"Hey, Blondie," a voice behind him hissed. JT spun around to face the tall, spiky black-haired guy. His thug-ish face and hard, beady dark eyes sent an involuntary shiver up the boy's spine - this guy creeped him out.

"Yes?" he answered warily, trying to keep the uncertainty out of his own voice.

"Want to play?" the thug grinned, mouth widening to reveal rather yellowed teeth. He smelled of alcohol and cigarettes; in fact, the aroma wafted from him as if he bathed daily in smoke and beer. It was actually pretty revolting.

"No, thanks," JT answered thinly, making a move to walk away. A strong hand clamped firmly down on his upper arm, however, preventing him from going any further. "H-hey . . ."

"I *said*, wanna play?" the brute enunciated through clenched teeth, gripping both of JT's arms now, hard enough to bruise. 

"And I said no," JT spat back, struggling. "Let me go - you're hurting me," he insisted, gasping slightly at the pressure.

"I don't think so, doll-face", the man leered, dragging a now squirming JT against his chest. "You're easily the prettiest thing here; I'm surprised you haven't been picked up yet." He inhaled the scent of JT's hair deeply, pressing his nose into the crown of the blond's head.

"I'm taken," JT enunciated, still trying unsuccessfully to break free. He knew it was a long shot, but maybe if this creep thought he had a big bear boyfriend waiting in the wings, he'd be more apt to let him go.

Creep, however, just sneered. "Nice try, Blondie," he grinned. "If he cared enough, he wouldn't have left you alone out here." He dragged JT forward; the teenager considered yelling for help, but realized he'd hardly be heard over the din of the night club that he was being goaded into.

"No . . . please," JT tried again, noting with dread the clear-cut path his captor was taking to Babylon's backroom. Rage, pared down in his civilian disguise, had brought the boy back here on a number of occasions, but that was different. JT loved Rage; he wanted Rage. This seedy asshole who was now rubbing the boy's unconsciously hardening nipples through his thin white t-shirt was not who JT had expected to "branch out" his backroom quota with.

'RAGE!' the blond screamed inwardly, watching in increasingly-growing horror as the brute pulled out a pair of handcuffs and, capturing the boy's wrists before he had a chance to escape, proceeded to tether him to one of the poles in the backroom. Arms pulled tightly behind him, JT could only squirm minimally as the man lifted up his shirt and began greedily pawing the smooth skin underneath.

Elsewhere in Gayopolis, Rage was aimlessly scanning the streets for homophobes and otherwise shady characters. Boredly, he contemplated calling his sidekick, Zephyr, but then decided that it wasn't worth getting him involved on what was quite possibly one of the most boring nights for crime-fighting he'd ever had.

About ready to call it a night and return to his lair (and JT, who was probably anxious to be back in Rage's arms), Rage clutched his head in pain as a sudden, strong mental image caught him off-guard. Rage's super powers were infamous and varied, but his strong mind connection with JT was more a mutual perk of their closely intimate relationship than anything else . . . mixed in with his own special brand of super fagly strength, of course. 

"JT?" Rage gasped as the picture of his young lover tied to a pole filtered into his head. Immediately, he knew something was horribly, horribly wrong. Crime-seeking momentarily forgotten, the superhero narrowed his eyes and hurried towards Babylon, having recognized the environment in his vision as the backroom.

"Hold on, JT", he whispered, hoping the reassurance reached the teenager's mental monologue.

-*-

"Well, well, what have we got here? Apparently the twink's packing some natural assets," the creep snarked, pulling down his captive's blue jeans and underwear roughly to reveal the boy's hardening cock. JT willed himself not to get hard, but it was to no avail; even if he didn't want to fuck this asshole, he was pretty sure he'd gotten an erection simply from the fear of what was going to be done to him.

"Aaah," JT groaned as the creep began stroking him, hand roughly grasping at his cock. It squeezed, and the boy winced, much to the creep's delight. "Even in pain, you're pretty," he grinned, kneading JT's sac with stubby, cigarette-stained finers. "I wonder if your *boyfriend* feels the same way." He pinched a nipple and JT sniffled, silently pleading for Rage to come to his aid.

Eventually, groping his captive seemed tiresome to the creep. He grasped JT's chin, forcing him to meet his lustful gaze. "You're going to answer me, you little shit," he warned, pinching the blond's jaw tightly. "Or you're going to start answering to this." He made a fist with his free hand and JT winced.

"Please," he begged. "Please, let me go."

The brute scoffed and was just about to throw the first punch when a dark voice rumbled, "you heard the boy. Let him fucking go. Now."

There was a note of finality to the voice that made the creep turn around. Beady eyes registered recognition even before JT gazed up and screamed, "Rage!" 

"Ah," he said. "The patron saint of fags everywhere. You're wasting your time here, Rage," Creep continued, cupping JT's face in mock tenderness and brushing his thumb over the boy's delectable mouth that he hoped would be sucking his cock pretty soon. "The boy and I are just here having a little fun."

"Don't patronize me," Rage spat calmly. "JT is not yours to 'have fun' with. Now let him go, and I'll only kick your ass long enough for you to feel it until next week."

"Why do you care?" the creep crooned, reaching down to grasp JT's dick again, making him cry out. "Surely Gayopolis has more super-fagly things for you to attend to than the life of some blond twink."

"Fine. Have it your way, then," Rage frowned, emitting a blue beam from his eyes that was meant to stun rather than kill. Creep anticipated the blast and moved out of the way, but it still managed to singe his hand.

"Aaah, motherfucker!" he roared, clutching the burned appendage angrily. He cracked his neck on either side and stared at Rage challengingly. "This is the second time you've marked me," he taunted. "So I guess it's time to teach you a lesson." He took off his jacket and pulled open his shirt to reveal a rather curious, triangular-shaped scar on his chest.

Rage's eyes widened behind his mask. "Sodomitron," he spat, fists clenching.

"Yes," the creep - now revealed to be one of Rage's many arch-nemeses - replied smugly. "We meet again. So Rage," he continued, grinning evilly. "What exactly do you have invested in this?" He thumbed his finger at JT.

"That's none of your concern," Rage replied scathingly. "Just let him go, Sodomitron." 

But the villain had found the one possible chink in the hero's armor, and he knew it. "Do you love him, Rage? Is he whom you're sworn to protect and all that other maudlin superhero-type bullshit?" He laughed caustically as Rage struggled to keep his jaw from tightening. "I've been looking for suitable ways to get my revenge on you," Sodomitron continued, pointing at his marred chest. "And now, it seems, I find your one weakness. I didn't think you even had it in you to love." He laughed again, and JT, listening long enough to the exchange to gage what was happening, felt compelled to speak up.

"You don't fucking know anything about him," the teen glared, pulling unsuccessfully at his bindings for good measure.

Sodomitron back-handed him hard across the face. "Shut up, you little asshole," he demanded. "And you'll do it, too, or I'll slit your throat *before* I destroy your boyfriend."

"Like hell you will," Rage roared, readying his mind powers for another blast. Sodomitron saw the attack coming this time, however, and emitted his own beam of energy. It hit Rage square in the chest and knocked him flat on his back.

"Rage!" JT shouted hoarsely. The superhero got up again with a bit of an effort and braced himself heavily on his feet.

"Try that again," he challenged, rolling his shoulders to lose the soreness in his neck.

"I've got a better idea," Sodomitron smirked. He made a sweeping motion with one of his hands and muttered something under his breath. "CLONE CONFUSION!" he shouted; there was a flash of light, and then another figure seemed to have joined the party. Blond, blue-eyed, and dressed in blue jeans and a white t-shirt, the slight boy was the spitting image of JT.

"Hello, Rage," he purred. The superhero met his gaze instinctively, and the boy's eyes started to glow. "It's me, Rage," he chanted hypnotically. "JT. Your one true love."

"JT," Rage repeated, helplessly unable to look away. The blond moved closer to the hero, who took the petite figure in his arms. "You're safe with me," he murmured affectionately.

"Rage?!" The real JT cried in dismay. "Rage, that's not JT, listen to me!" He chanced an angry look at Sodomitron, who snickered loudly.

"Like that little trick, JT?" he grinned. "I'm rather fond of it. Rage and your clone will fornicate, of course, and it will leave the hero devoid of energy to fight me. He'll be as good as gone before sunrise." 

"Rage, no!" JT screamed again, even though it was futile.

"Call to him all you want," Sodomitron sneered. "It won't register. The spell cast by the JT clone is too strong."

"Rage," the boy whispered desolately. He watched his enchanted lover and the cloned catamite make out, Rage's tongue slipping in-between sweetly parted lips. The clone reached for the superhero's spandex-clad package, and gasped with delight as Rage swept him up into his arms, cradling the boy to his chest.

"I want you," the blond doppleganger whispered lustily. "Take me, Rage. Right here. Right now." He grinned over at the real JT, who felt his erection return full-force, the image of his visual likeness wrapped in Rage's arms too stimulating to remain disgusted. Sodomitron noticed and smiled.

"Enjoying the show, JT? Maybe we should finish what we started," he insinuated, reaching behind the bound teen to cup his firm, full ass. Slipping a digit between the cheeks, the villain laughed as JT bucked against the unlubed intrusion.

'Rage, please, hear me,' he thought desperately, staring at his broken lover making love to the enchanted boy-toy. 'It's me, it's the *real* JT. Sodomitron has you under a spell, Rage. Please, I *know* you can break out of it. I have faith in you - I love you. Please, Rage,' he begged silently, not realizing he had tears streaming down his cheeks until Sodomitron flicked them with his tongue.

"Tears, JT?" the villain scoffed. "Crying is for pussies. Surely your *boyfriend* taught you that." He nodded over at the still-busy pair in the center of the room, then turned his back on them to face his captive. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a short-handled whip, unravelling it with a flick of his wrist. "Now, I'll give you a reason to c-" he began, and then slumped to the floor.

"Like. Hell. You. Will." Rage retracted the fist he'd knocked Sodomitron out with and quickly stepped over the lax figure to get to JT. 

"Rage," the teen gasped, eyes shimmery with tears, of relief this time. He watched as the hero located the key to the handcuffs in one of Sodomitron's jacket pockets. As soon as he was freed from the pole, the blond clamoured into Rage's arms, limbs wrapping around the taller man as they kissed feverishly. 

Rage smiled through his mask when they parted. "I got your message," he murmured, chucking JT under the chin affectionately.

"You did?" JT whispered uncertainly. "I wasn't sure it would work but . . . but I meant every word."

"That," Rage husked, "is why it worked." He set the boy on the floor and, reluctantly letting him go, set to work handcuffing the still-prone form of Sodomitron to the pole with his own cuffs. 

JT looked around curiously. "What happened to the clone?" 

"A hologram," Rage explained. "One of Sodomitron's better tricks, too. Nonetheless, I should have seen it coming."

JT smiled softly. "Nobody's perfect." 

Rage returned the smile ruefully. "Come on, Boy Wonder," he beckoned, once Sodomitron was secure. "Let's go home. I think we both deserve a trip to the Rejuvenation Bed."

-*-

"So," Brian prepositioned, nuzzling his lover's cheek. "Was that good enough 'inspiration' for you?"

Justin grinned sleepily. "It was amazing," he gushed. "You were amazing. It was lucky that Todd decided to do it free of charge."

Brian smirked. "The fag almost wet himself when I told him it was for the salvation of his favorite comic book. Where there's a queer, there's an obsession," he said smugly, all ad exec.

"Mmm," Justin hummed. "So what's yours?"

"I have many - it comes with being a superfag," he replied, making the blond laugh. "But mostly you," the brunet continued, contentedly rubbing the small of Justin's back.

The boy flushed prettily at this. "So what about the other guy - the clone?" he pressed. "He looked so much like me, and I haven't seen him around at Babylon before. How'd you get ahold of him on such short notice?"

Brian vacillated, running his hand through his hair, a tell-tale sign that he was frustrated. Nobody knew this better than his bedmate, either - shit. "You can't laugh," he warned. Fuck. He needed a cigarette.

Justin crinkled his nose in confusion. "I won't."

Brian took a deep breath, feeling sheepish. "I . . . hired him," he said finally. "Before . . . when you were with . . . when we broke up," he admitted, chancing a look at his lover.

Justin's eyes were moist; he willed himself not to spoil the moment by crying, though. "I guess you missed me, huh?" He smiled up at Brian, patting his arm.

The brunet studied Justin's face before pressing their foreheads together. "Yeah, I guess so." He rolled his eyes. "I thought I could find someone who looked like you and the novelty of it would eventually wear off." It must be the alcohol talking, he cursed inwardly.

Justin, however, seemed chuffed by the revelations. "But it didn't?" he couldn't resist asking.

Brian responded by pressing his mouth to the other man's for a lengthy kiss. "Nope," he said when it was finally broken. "I guess I'm stuck with you, you little shit." 

Justin smiled and butted his head against Brian's shoulder. "Perish the thought," he murmured, before the events of the last few hours caught up with him. In moments, the two men lay together, fast asleep, as the city of Pittsburgh continued to buzz below them, safe for one more night.


End file.
